Request
by dani.lutka
Summary: A short story about how Emanuel fell in love with Dean in the episode: "Born Again Identity" It's sort of a POV story, in that most of it is seen through Emanuel's experiences, and later, Castiel's. Spoilers for that episode in season 7.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Faith and Desire

**Chapters:** 1/6

**Author:** myforgottenpain

**Rating:** MA/PG-18

**Pairing:** Destiel, Emanuel/Daphne, Dean/Emanuel

**Warning:** Spoilers for season 7, specifically episode 17: "The Born Again Identity."

**Summary:** Sometimes true love doesn't die. Whether on his own, or because his body used to belong to an angel named Castiel, Emanuel fell in love with Dean Winchester. And because of this, he realizes the depths one will go for the sake of their soul mate and a love they can't let go of.

**Notes:** This is in response to a post on Tumblr. I saw a request for a fic, was instantly inspired, and thus this was born! This is seriously a trail mix of a fic. There are moments of domestic/fluff, lots of angst, brief sexual situations, and character death. It mostly follows what happens in the above mentioned episode, but I might have gone slightly AU at times. So good luck!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything to do with Supernatural, Dean or Sam Winchester, Emanuel, Daphne, Castiel, or anything else connected to them.

**Dedicated to:** tickle-me-misha

**Chapter One:**

The whole day had been wrong.

It had started with extreme restlessness.

Emanuel had been staring at the off white ceiling for exactly 6 hours and 28 minutes. He knew because he could hear the soft fall of the numbers on their retro alarm clock counting the seconds as they passed.

He had done this every night for as long as he could remember, which wasn't very long. To pass the time he would think of a scripture that had touched him, review a project he was going to work on, or listen to Daphne breathing.

Some nights, he would sit up in bed and watch her sleeping.

It had never occurred to him that his behavior had been odd, until today. This night seemed to pass slower than normal. And he found himself wondering why he couldn't remember _ever_ falling asleep, or any of his dreams. What really unnerved him was the knowledge that he was rarely tired.

For the last four months, sixteen weeks, hundred and twelve days, he spent most nights just like he was now. Quietly waiting out the time between sun down and sun up, wondering what was taking the night so long to finish its job.

Today, it bothered him on some deeply level that he did not sleep like his wife did.

Like normal, the alarm was turned off before it had a chance to really start. His arm moving from his side a second before the noise broke the stillness of the room.

Daphne shifted in her spot next to him. Her form small and soft against the bed they shared. He could see the white cotton night-gown she had worn to bed, her long hair hidden in a night-cap so it wouldn't be too messy in the morning.

_She_ _was a modest woman. A wonderful person_. He reminded himself as he slipped out of bed. He stopped near the foot board and stared at the matching chairs across from him. His and hers reading chairs, classical with an antique look and matching stand. His clothes for today were spread out on one.

A nice sweater, simple dress shirt, and tailored pants. Even his under clothes were piled neatly alongside the folded belt. His shoes nestled together just in front of it.

It had been Daphne that had showed him the importance of being ready in the morning. And for the last few weeks of their time together he had not questioned it. But it seemed odd now, for reasons he couldn't quite place his finger on.

The barely audible noise of Daphne sitting up on the mattress might as well have been a protesting screech of metal grinding together, snapping Emanuel from his thoughts. Haphazardly he grabbed his things, surprised at the action even as he did it, and hurried into the bathroom.

His wife was a demure woman, who liked her privacy in the morning.

_My Wife_?

He questioned that thought as he washed up in his sink. The part of the bathroom that was completely his. His cologne and after shave sat next to the faucet, with his comb, razor, and other grooming products lined up in a neat row. Daphne had her own space.

_Separate but equal lives_...

Meeting Daphne had seemed to be a miracle, the single most important moment of his life.

But now, it didn't seem so cut and dry. Everything about this day felt off.

Fully dressed now, Emanuel peeked out of the bathroom and didn't see his wife. Just in the hallway, he smelled breakfast cooking in the kitchen. He followed the familiar scent of the same breakfast she prepared every day since he had moved in with her.

_Today is Tuesday, so she'll have the yellow placements out_. He thought as he approached the doorway to the kitchen. He had been right.

Their little table sat in the one spot in the kitchen, where they could get the most sunlight and enjoy the beauty of God's work outside in Daphne's garden. Two primary yellow placements across from one another, matching cloth napkins with silverware rolled in them, just to the left of both plates.

But that was were the similarities ended. His plate had a book resting in it, while hers had a bowl with 3/4th of a cup of oatmeal and three tablespoons of raisins on top. When she was feeling really silly, she would put some brown sugar on it.

He had been so thankful for all that she did. She took such good care of him.

But today wasn't normal; so for the first time it occurred to him how little he ate and how this didn't seem to bother Daphne.

Daphne had become concerned when she saw the way Emanuel was staring at the table. She had touched his arm gently and asked if something was bothering him.

He had told her it was nothing, he was just anxious to get back to doing God's work. It had been a lie, the first time he had never told her one. But she had beamed at him with pride. She understood and felt the same way.

Today just wasn't right.

He had gone through the motions of his normal day. Bible study in the morning, helping out at the soup kitchen in the afternoon. Every step in his routine felt worse than the one before it. He felt like an outsider in his own world.

Until he had gone home.

Even up to the moment his feet had hit the path leading up to his house, Emanuel had not been sure why he had come at all. He didn't need anything here. Daphne wasn't expecting him home for a few more hours. But there had been this _pull_.

No words, no emotions, just this _need_ and the knowledge he wasn't supposed to be anywhere else but right here.

Right on his walkway with his eyes on the stones under him.

In this exact spot as a body came tumbling down his stairs.

This moment, as he looked to his porch and saw a man standing there.

This day had been all wrong and yet, this moment, had been perfect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It had been hard looking away from the stranger on his porch, because he felt like he knew him. He had seen that face before and it had meant something to him. The memory was just out of reach and yet his heart started to beat a little quicker. His throat suddenly felt a little tighter.

_I have a special way to look at people_, he silently reminded himself.

Emanuel didn't just see them, he could see through them. He could see what was inside of them, for good or for bad.

It didn't feel enough to say that the man, who used to be a fairly pleasant neighbor, had an appearance of evil. There was something frighteningly twisted and inhumane about him.

But the man on the porch was different. There was a bright light coming from him. He was good, like Daphne, but better somehow.

It was only then that Emanuel realized he was trembling, while he was struggling to make sense of the way he was feeling. The stranger was staring at him. Eyes wide, jaw slightly slack; and on his face was expectation, joy, and relief, all rolled into one.

But Emanuel didn't know who he was.

He remembered so little about his old life. He had been soaking wet and embarrassingly naked, when he had stumbled into Daphne, who had saved his life.

But she had never brought about feelings like the ones swarming him now. He had never felt anxious under the weight of her gaze. His stomach had not tied itself into knots as he tried desperately to recall why this all felt so familiar.

He was so puzzled by it in the seconds that had passed, he had not even noticed the bloody knife in the stranger's hand.

It had taken a great deal of strength to move around the dead body on his walkway, to climb those steps, and stand closer to this man. Whomever he was.

And then everything had paused again, or maybe it had just slowed down. They gazed at one another, not like people trying to read each other's mind, but as if they already knew they could and had in fact done it before. He could almost see the secrets held in those green iris', suddenly feeling very exposed when he realized that this man might be able to see into him similarly.

A cool breeze rustled their clothes and Emanuel was ashamed when it occurred to him how much he enjoyed this. That just standing near this man made him feel a sense of peacefulness and contentment that went all the way to his soul. The feeling of guilt only worsened when he suddenly remembered that Daphne had most likely been home when that thing had shown up. It was only then that their eyes parted and they had gone inside.

Poor, sweet Daphne, could be in danger and what was he doing?

The stranger went in first, looking around the foyer even as he told Emanuel that there was a woman tied up in the front room.

He was relieved to see her alive and seemingly unharmed. Even more so since he could focus his thoughts on her. Emanuel hurried to her side and untied her. She had placed her hand gently on his cheek and gazed at him.

And in the brief moment they had to look at one another, Emanuel realized again how pure her intentions were when she looked at him.

He brought her with him, when he had gone back to the stranger, holding her hand securely. Her hand was delicate in his, but it was solid and he felt grounded because of it. _This was good_.

He said his name was Dean.

There was something troubling Dean, but Emanuel wasn't sure exactly what it was.

He thanked Dean for helping them and told him what he had seen. He didn't see any point in keeping it a secret. This man was obviously here to help them. A messenger of God no doubt. It was reassuring and affirming of what he had come to believe in. The faith Daphne had given him.

Demon_s_ were walking the Earth. It was a thought that he felt should have troubled him more. And yet what bothered him was when Daphne had started talking about his special gifts. Not that he was ashamed of them, or that he wanted to hide them. He had done God's work for a while now. It felt like he had done it forever.

But for some reason, maybe because of the way Dean had reacted to the news, it had left him feeling uncomfortable. Why did Dean sound so disappointed?

And then so unhappy suddenly?

The amount of sadness in those green eyes touched Emanuel, because he could tell it was more than that, it had been grief. He had seen pain and suffering in the people he had helped. But nothing like what he could see in those eyes. They were broken, lost, and so frightened.

He realized he wanted to cry himself, just looking at them. And a powerful urge rose up inside of him, making him want to embrace this man that he had barely known an half an hour.

It made him realize how lackluster his life had been up to this moment, at least what he could remember of it.

_Daphne_

She had brought him back to her house when she had found him wandering in the woods. She had given him shelter, clothing, and food. She had offered him even more than that.

Her past had been a hard one. Emanuel had seen it in her, just like he could see it in Dean. She was scarred from it, battered and bruised despite the façade that everyone else saw. She tried so hard to be a good person, but she was limited.

He had offered her the only thing he could. He had no money, no possessions, and no memory of who he was. But he had given her the one thing she had always wanted. A companion to share her journey with, a shoulder to cry on, but mostly a person to take care of.

She couldn't give him what a normal wife could, she had been so guilt ridden because of that. But for some reason, it had not mattered to him. He had not longed to be with Daphne like that. So when she said she couldn't, he told her that it was alright. They had taken oaths to love God before anyone else and that had been enough.

But meeting Dean seemed to shake that foundation. The walls didn't come tumbling down, but Emanuel could feel them quake as decades of debris fell to the floor.

Dean needed help, he could see it in his eyes. But Emanuel wondered if was the type of help he could offer. For whatever reason he did not question the knowledge that he would do whatever he could to help this man. But not in the same way he had gone easily with Daphne down the aisle to be married.

Something about trusting Dean felt good. Felt better than helping the disadvantaged, or repaying Daphne for her kindness. Something... just felt natural about it.

It had taken them some time to get ready. While Dean got rid of the body, Daphne had made them sandwiches. Dean had just come in when she had finished setting the table for them. Yellow placemats because it was still Tuesday, plates and cups carefully arranged. Taking the jug of sun tea from the windowsill, she had poured them both drinks before excusing herself.

"You can have a seat."

Dean had regarded the table and then Emanuel in a perplexing manner. On the surface he appeared amused, but there was sadness on the edge, just within sight of being noticeable.

The hair on Emanuel's neck rose when Dean took his seat. The already present nervousness clenched his stomach worse, as he stiffly sat in Daphne's spot. It felt wrong and yet some how thrilling at the same time. _Li__ke a child who is breaking the rules for the first time_. Which made him feel foolish.

"You don't happen to have anything a little stronger do you?"

He found himself tilting his head to the side just a little, staring at Dean. "No, we don't abide in alcohol here."

"Too bad," Dean answered while reaching into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a metal flask.

Emanuel's eyes went wide as he watched Dean pour the liquor into the tea. His mouth falling open slightly when Dean offered him some.

Bible verses about Eve being offered an apple, of temptation and what happens when you give in to it, rushed into Emanuel's thoughts. Dean, who had saved him from the demon, was tempting him and not just with alcohol.

The way he smiled just a little, leaning back and away from the table as he recapped the flask, and shoved it back into his inner pocket. The way the setting sun brightened his short hair and made it look like artistically sculpted gold. The depth of his green eyes and the freckles across his nose.

Horror filled Emanuel when he realized how beautiful he found Dean. It was the only word to use because it was the only one his mind would let him think of. There was something so amazingly beautiful about Dean that it both captivated him and frightened him.

Neither of them ate their sandwiches. Emanuel had not been hungry all day and the guilt over how he reacted to the man next to him didn't help it. It appeared that Dean was also too bogged down with his own strife to enjoy the food. But he did have two glasses of tea mixed with whatever was in his flask. He didn't offer Emanuel any more alcohol after the initial time.

Daphne had come down then, placing his suitcase by the doorway. She had not been alarmed when she found the food untouched. Instead, she had wrapped the sandwiches in cellophane and placed them in a paper bag. She packed some more food in it and had carried it out to the car.

Dean looked relieved to leave which bothered Emanuel even though he couldn't figure out why.

The black Impala that Dean led them to also struck him. There was something so enticing about the classic car. Which was startling because until this moment, he would have said he was indifferent to any vehicles. But he wanted to get into this one, practically felt compelled to.

And he did.

Without asking what Dean needed. Never questioning why Dean had come, how he had been able to kill a demon, or why the demon wanted him. He simply looked to Daphne and said good-bye.

She had smiled and gazed at him like she had always seen this day coming. That the broken bird she had found on that wooded trail would someday mend it's wings and fly away. She had prepared since the first day they met, for the day they would part.

"Good bye Emanuel." She had looked to Dean then, just as serenely and added: "Take good care of him, please Dean."

And Dean said he would, though something about her request seemed to bother Dean a bit. Like it had offended him that she had needed to ask, and unnerved him at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

The sun was gone by the time they had set out on the road. The car ride had started out silent except for the light rain fall outside. He kept track of the time that passed by how often Dean stole glances at him. Each time, the brief look sent a strange sensation up Emanuel's skin.

The rain had stopped then, as if signaling that it was time to talk. It didn't last long, but it had been enough.

They had shared a brief conversation where he had expressed what he had believed since his first memory in those woods; that he had a good life. That he was a good person. But the apprehension in Dean's expression made him wonder why he believed that and why had he never questioned it.

How had he gotten there, why had he been drenched, why had he been naked? For the first time since that day, Emanuel wondered what the answers were. Only this time, he realized he might not like the answer.

But this conversation also had allowed Emanuel to learn that someone from Dean's past had hurt him, and it seemed his brother as well. Someone with a strange name. Someone Dean didn't want to talk about and the mere conjuring of this person's name seemed to cause Dean pain.

_Castiel_

The warm sting of anger crept over Emanuel then. It was the first time he had felt anger towards anyone, or anything. But he intensely disliked this Castiel. He hoped that they were gone for good, because he didn't want someone as beautiful as Dean to suffer the way he seemed to be now.

It didn't seem fair.

They had gotten a hotel room eventually, not that Dean wanted to stop Emanuel observed, but he needed too. Emanuel had followed him silently to the office where Dean had paid for the room and then down the hallway to the door that matched their key.

Barely through the threshold of their room and Dean was dumping things on the floor. Emanuel stood still in his spot for a moment and observed how strange it looked to see things so carelessly tossed about. He turned his attention to Dean, who at this point was dumping his bag out on the first bed from the door.

Again, Emanuel felt a strange sensation fill him because in his home with Daphne, that side of the room had always been his.

"What do you want for dinner?"

Emanuel wasn't sure what he should say, and the silence that answered Dean for him, caused the hunter to turn and look at him. For a moment Emanuel was worried that Dean would be mad at him, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile.

There was something about the way Dean looked at him, Emanuel realized. Like he recognized something and it both made him happy and sad at the same time.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Emanuel decided, even though he really wasn't. That was two lies today, a record as far as he knew.

"Well, what do you want to eat?"

Emanuel shifted in his spot. "I don't cook."

"I didn't ask you if you did."

"Daphne always cooked." Emanuel tried again, feeling shameful under the weight of Dean's doubt. "It's Tuesday chicken Caesar salad night."

The disbelief in Dean's expression grew to an almost comical level. "So you never have anything else?"

Emanuel was still for a moment and then shook his head.

It was then, that Dean had laughed. It had unnerved Emanuel at first, but quickly he found he liked the way it sounded.

"Okay then, hamburgers and fries it is." Dean replied.

Daphne never made him a meal like that. "Why?"

"Because," Dean said as he pulled on his jacket, "It's my favorite meal."

And now it was Emanuel's.

Sitting in the motel room, Emanuel wondered if he ever had anything as delicious as a bacon cheeseburger before.

He looked up from the table and to Dean, who was sitting on the bed. Not the bed he had dumped his things on, but the other bed in the room.

It was the first time that Dean looked completely happy, which in turn filled Emanuel with joy.

Even if there were times when Dean just seemed to linger too long. His hand would met Emanuel's side in an unconscious gesture as he passed. Though Emanuel wasn't sure if the other man was trying to move him away or closer. Dean wouldn't realize it had happened right away and Emanuel wouldn't be able to tell him to move it. There was something so pleasant and delightfully sinful about letting it happen.

But eventually, within seconds usually, Dean would realize what he had done. He would shoot his hand a reproachful glance, tear it away, and quickly move away from Emanuel.

And drink. There was a lot of drinking following these moments.

Emanuel would stay rooted in his spot, watching as Dean took long gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle. His head would be spinning a little as he found himself missing that simple touch, more than he was missing his own wife.

Mostly there were looks, _stares actually, _from Dean that lasted a little too long to not question it. There was such a profound sadness in his eyes and it seemed to get worse as the night wore on. Like being in this room with Emanuel was slowly killing him, but he would rather die than live.

And it wasn't the drinking that had done it. Emanuel wasn't scared of Dean loosing control and hurting him. No he knew, some how, that no matter what he could trust Dean.

With a need to fill the void of silence some how, Emanuel turned on the TV. Daphne did not have cable because she felt that there was nothing productive about the activity. So the remote baffled him, but he didn't want to disturb Dean who seemed to be engrossed in reading a journal. Accidentally, he came across a station about well endowed women from the far East. Instead of scrolling away from it, he managed to order it.

His eyes went wide with shock just as he twisted in his spot to look at Dean.

"Damn it Cas, I told you..." Dean started, the sentence catching in his throat even as he turned to look at Emanuel. The sadness became misery this time. Like this was it, Dean would break down crying. Instead he rubbed his face and downcast his eyes. He mumbled an apology and quickly turned away.

The whiskey bottle next to him was picked up again and a long mournful swig taken from it. It broke Emanuel's heart this time. He turned the TV off, regretting that he had ever tried to watch it.

"I'm so sorry."

Dean was still for a moment, before twisting to look at Emanuel, "For what?"

_Good question_

The answer had seemed so obvious at first. He had been sorry for turning on the depraved, smut movie. But now that he was thinking about the question, he wondered if that was really all he was apologizing for. Because he suddenly felt like there was something more.

Emanuel shifted in his spot, "For making you think about Cas again." It had seemed the best way to cover everything in his thoughts.

There was another moment of silence before a short burst of bitter laughter came from Dean. "Happens all the time." He whispered, reflective for a moment before he added, "Nothing you can control."

Emanuel realized the truth of that statement as Dean turned away from him again. It was that whomever this Castiel was, he was always on Dean's mind. Before they had met, and now afterwards, Castiel was never far from Dean's thoughts. And because of this, Dean had probably been pretending all along to be sharing this hotel room with the person he missed so much.

Shock came over Emanuel when he realized he was jealous, because until this moment he couldn't remember ever caring about anyone like that. With the exception being maybe God. That whatever tore Dean and Castiel apart could not end the way Dean felt about him. And it would dictate how Dean related to everyone else afterwards.

Emanuel realized that he longed to share that with Dean. That companionship, that bond, that...

_love_.

And the desire that might come with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

With a tired sigh, Dean lowered himself to the bed and closed his eyes. In a few moments he was sleeping soundly.

On his own bed Emanuel's eyes shot open, since he no longer needed to pretend to be asleep. He felt strangely rigid in his spot though. The pounding force of his heart hammered its way through his head, as the urge to look at the man next to him became too much to bear. Why did Dean have to be so beautiful? So much more lovely to behold than the woman he had taken as a wife?

Dean was sprawled out on his back, still wearing the same clothes that he had worn when killing the demon. There was something so pleasing about watching him and again Emanuel found himself comparing the hunter to his wife. He had enjoyed watching her, but he dare say he _loved_ watching Dean. Emanuel felt captivated by the gentle rise and fall of Dean's chest and the soft sound of his snoring. He looked so strong, even now when he was so vulnerable.

Emanuel realized that he wanted to move closer to the man, to memorize every feature and to count the freckles on Dean's face.

The more he tried to ignore it, the harder it was.

Closing his eyes tightly, Emanuel willed himself to sleep. But he wouldn't..._couldn't_...

Next to him, Dean shifted in his spot. In what felt like an instant, Emanuel was out of bed and standing over the hunter.

The peacefulness was gone and Emanuel could see every heart wrenching detail as clear as if this was happening in the middle of the day.

He could see Dean's fingers gripping the blanket under him. He could see the subtle trembling of Dean's body. The worse part was the soft whimpering mixed with the pained expression on Dean's face. He looked like he was being tortured, suffering under some great weight that was too much for him to bear.

Some how, Emanuel knew it had to do with that...

He was startled out of his thoughts when he realized how close he had come to using profanity. How exciting had that been?

As if reading Emanuel's thoughts, Castiel's name came from Dean's mouth. Whatever was happening in his dream, Dean needed this Castiel. He was calling for him, _begging_ for him to come back.

He watched as Dean actually rolled to his side, pulling the blanket close as he cried in his sleep till his cheeks were red from it.

Driven nearly to tears himself, from listening to Dean crying, Emanuel found himself acting without any real understanding of what might happen because of it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out. His hands slid easily over Dean's body, one over his back, while the other went over his chest.

_Just a comforting hug_...

Desire filled him as he realized how nice it was to touch Dean, craving suddenly the body under the plain shirt.

Emanuel didn't have long to think about this since Dean jerked awake. Panicked, looking like he was either going to run from the room or rip Emanuel's head off (or both), Dean scooted quickly away from the faith healer.

Suddenly filled with disgrace, Emanuel pulled his hands away, staring at them like they had suddenly gained a life of their own. "I... I..."

Dean didn't say anything, he was shaking harder than he had been when he was asleep. As he hurried to get rid of the evidence that he had cried, he struggled to the other side of the bed, nearly falling off it as he attempted to get away from Emanuel.

"I didn't mean..." Emanuel started, dizzy with confusion and regret. _Why had he done that_?

"Just forget it." Dean said sharply, turning away from Emanuel, seeming to have the intention of going to the bathroom.

But Emanuel didn't want to forget about it.

The only way he could try to explain how he was feeling was madness. First infatuation, foolish, senseless, teenage romance. But it was just a theory since he couldn't remember actually being a teenager. But like the teenagers he had heard about, he suddenly wanted to be rash, to act impulsively, and be stubborn about it until he had gotten what he wanted.

And like madness, the next thing out of his mouth burst from his lungs without any control. "Let me take care of you."

Dean had looked at him then, a sense of disbelief in his eyes and yet... was there a little interest? Maybe Emanuel had just convinced himself that, but he wouldn't give himself time to doubt it.

He hurried around the bed, as the words continued to tumble from his lips. "There is something about me, that reminds you of this Castiel. I can see it when you stare at me. You obviously miss him... despite the fact that he broke Sam's head."

Dean looked more than a little horrified by the way Emanuel was approaching him, shaking his head back and forth to everything that was being said.

He finally stopped about a foot away from Dean. His heart was racing, his palms were sweating, but he was excited and hopeful. "It's alright..."

"What?" Dean gasped, watching Emanuel carefully.

"You can pretend I'm him."

Dean's green eyes suddenly grew larger, eyelashes wet, his cheeks now a dark shade of pink. But just as wonder crossed his face, it crumbled and he shook his head harder. "No... no, I can't."

"It's alright." Emanuel said softly, moving closer. He still wasn't completely sure what he was doing, but it felt right. It felt perfect. If there was only one thing he could ever have in this world, he wanted this to work. He would give up his healing gift, after helping Sam of course, if he could have this one little thing.

_This is how I can heal you. I can make you whole again. I can fix whatever damage Castiel did to you._

Emanuel's mouth brushed against Dean's, making the hunter gasp. It made Emanuel let out a shaky breath he had held.

Dean didn't pull away from him, but there were fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. "I can't." He whispered again, even as Emanuel kissed his neck. He repeated the assertion, as he leaned in this time, succeeding in the kiss Emanuel had not been able to complete alone.

Emanuel realized then how little he knew about what to do now that he had gotten what he had prayed for. He had no memory of being sexually active before the day in the woods and he had not crossed that line with Daphne.

But it felt too wonderful to taste Dean's mouth. The sensation was so new and starkly different from everything Emanuel had come to believe about the world. And yet, just under the surface, he felt a sense of familiarity. He could almost predict what was going to happen, even though he had no words to properly describe the feeling.

Dean's hands moved over his side then, pulling him closer. Their kissing was getting firmer, their breathing heavier, and it was felt magnificent. He moved his hands over Dean's chest and had just reached the hunter's neck, their tongues brushed together.

Emanuel moaned softly, melting into Dean's arms, when the hunter suddenly tore away from him. His whole body felt like it was alive in a way it had never been before, making it hard to focus.

Dean stopped nearly on the other side of the bed, with his back to Emanuel.

Taking a step closer to Dean, Emanuel wanted nothing more than to continue what had started. But he forced himself to stop.

He could hear the tears Dean was choking on. He watched with sorrow at the jerking motions of Dean's hunched over shoulders. Emanuel could practically feel the anguish radiating from him.

"Please... let me..." Emanuel started.

"I can't!" Dean said firmer now, refusing to look at Emanuel.

"Why?" Emanuel's voice broke and he realized how heartbroken he felt now.

"Because you're not, Cas." Dean snapped, turning a harsh gaze to the man behind him. The anger faded and left behind something worse than hopelessness. Unable to form the words he needed to express, Dean just shook his head and looked away from Emanuel again.

Swallowing back the tightness in his throat, Emanuel moved closer to Dean, amazed at the sudden realization of how silently he walked. "I.. I think I love you."

Dean winced, as if the thought of someone loving him wasn't just beyond wrong, but something that caused him extreme pain. "I..."

Hope stirred in him again and Emanuel found himself anticipating something glorious. Instead he only got a miserable, shattered glance from Dean, as he shook his head again. "I can't... I don't..." He shrugged in a tired fashion and started to look away from Emanuel again.

This was all so wrong, Emanuel realized. Once more he was dismayed at his own actions. This was not what he had wanted. Why had he so blindly rushed into this, like there was no tomorrow?

"I just wanted to make you smile again." Emanuel said softly.

A bitter laugh came from Dean, "It's never going to happen..."

_Not unless your Cas comes back_. Emanuel thought, feeling crestfallen and worthless. The desire he had felt suddenly withered inside of him and all he wanted to do was to go back and stop himself.

Maybe he could.

He looked to Dean when he heard him sniffing back the last of his tears. The other man was just starting to turn and face him when Emanuel acted.

His hand moved as if on its own mission, while his index and middle finger extended. Without any clear idea of what he was doing, he pressed his fingertips to Dean's forehead.

_Let me make amends for what I did. Let me heal you. Please.. forget...not everything, only what I just did_. And as he said those words the apprehensive look Dean had given him melted away. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his legs just seemed to give up on him; causing Dean to fall to the floor.

Startled by what he had done, Emanuel did not act quick enough to stop the fall. And at first glance, he believed he had killed Dean. The thought that he had so completely hurt the man he felt like he might love, made him want to vomit. But when he checked the hunter's vitals, he was relieved to learn that Dean was alive.

It had taken a great deal of struggling to get Dean back on the bed. But he had managed to get him into a comfortable position. Just as he was getting ready to move away from Dean, he caught his profile through the corner of his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, Emanuel reached out and touched Dean's cheek gently, before moving his fingertips to the edge of his mouth. He wanted so much to kiss those lips, despite how he had ruined things the first time.

However, he found that he could control himself better this time. Settling back into his spot, he watched over Dean for the rest of the night. He wasn't sure what the morning was going to bring and he was reluctant to leave his side. But he did feel tired, for the first time in his recent memory.

So as the sun started to peek over the horizon, Emanuel settled onto his own bed, his eyes drifted closed. It wasn't really sleep that found him and what he experienced then made him restless. He didn't think about demons coming to kill him, or that they could/would hurt Daphne. He was uneasy because he fantasized about Dean and remembered something.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

He could feel Dean's mouth on his skin, how firm the action would be despite how soft his lips were. He could feel Dean's hands creeping up his sides, sliding smoothly under his shirt as he pushed it away. He could feel the weight of Dean's body on his and it felt better than wonderful.

The way it felt to rub his thighs against Dean's hips, as he lazily caressed Dean's arms with his fingertips. As if they had eternity to enjoy each other and maybe in whatever world they had shared, they did.

Dean's mouth was on his collar-bone now, inching slowly to his neck. His chest was heaving, his body blissfully warm and aroused. He could feel Dean's passion, the desire they felt for one another.

It was heavenly.

But it was not Emanuel's name that Dean whispered heatedly into his ear, it was another name...

He woke up with a start, gasping loudly and blushing when he found Dean's hand on his back. Despite how platonic it was, there was something simply wonderful about Dean doing it.

"Time to get up." Dean said around the toothbrush in his mouth.

Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Emanuel nodded and watched as Dean went back to the bathroom, leaving the door open.

He remembered nothing about what had happened, Emanuel soon learned, both relieved and disheartened.

It was only then that he realized there was a strange tension in his body. The memory of the dream came rushing back to him, and Emanuel realized that he was aroused, which made him want to panic. He literally couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. And in that horrible moment he couldn't think of what to do to make it go away. All he could think of was going to Dean and that made the problem worse.

Weakly, Emanuel requested to use the bathroom.

"Go a head." Dean called back, turning on the faucet as he spit into the sink.

The fact that Dean wanted to share the bathroom with him filled Emanuel with dread and wonder. There was nothing modest about Dean Winchester.

"I would prefer if I had some... privacy."

Dean leaned out of the bathroom with a raised eyebrow. "Whatever floats your boat."

Emanuel watched as Dean left the bathroom and crossed the common space. It was only when Dean had his back to him, that he leapt from the bed and hurried into the bathroom. He closed the door firmly, shaking because of the sound it had made.

Then he turned his attention to the problem at hand. He could feel his groin throbbing harder now, because the bathroom smelled fresh and clean from a shower. But not the baby powder and lilac scent from when Daphne was done. This was plain soap, musky cologne, and aftershave.

It brought back the dream again. Making it sharper as if those feelings were suddenly more real; because he knew now, so distinctly, how Dean smelled.

And there was something about them that felt like forgotten memories. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking? After all, he had not known Dean before they met on his front porch.

_Did he?_

Stripping his clothes off, Emanuel rushed into the shower and turned it on. It wasn't icy cold, but it wasn't hot either. It made Emanuel jump and gasp, but it worked. He was soon feeling better, even though he could not relax like he had been before meeting Dean.

"...you forgot your clothes..."

The door to the bathroom opened as Dean spoke. Emanuel pressed himself against the wall and stared through the opaque shower curtain and the shadowed silhouette of the hunter. His heart was pounding so hard, Emanuel was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. His body was responding like it had to the dream. And for one blissful moment...

He imagined that Dean would throw the curtain back. He would look him over and smile in approval of what he saw. He would pull his clothes off and join him in the water. How wonderful would Dean's body feel against his own...

But it didn't happen. Dean had tossed his suitcase to the floor and had quickly departed the bathroom. Emanuel felt...he blinked when he realized there was only one way to describe it.

Disappointed.

Forcing that out of his mind, Emanuel set about washing up and then got out of the shower. He was faced with an interesting problem when he was done though.

Standing in front of the sink, his travel bag of toilettes in hand, Emanuel looked over the off white colored counter space. There was a crumpled tube of toothpaste, an uncapped toothbrush, a clear disposable cup that was still wet, a bottle of cologne and the matching aftershave, a wooden brush, an almost empty bottle of hair gel... _Dean_...

Everything that Dean needed to start the day was completely spread across the counter as if his own suitcase had exploded.

_Our shared space_.

"Come on... it's time for breakfast!" Dean called through the door.

Emanuel rushed through the rest of his preparation, skipping half of what he normally did. He opened the door and faced Dean.

They had gone to a little diner down the road from the motel, once they had packed the Impala. When he had started to order some water, Dean had rolled his eyes and yanked Emanuel's menu from his hands, like the healer had lost the privilege of using it

"Sally," Dean addressed their waitress, who looked old enough to be his mother. He smiled at her and it made Emanuel's heart skip a beat. It was so smooth, so suave and charismatic. "Please give my friend here an order of cats heads and easy diggins."

She smiled at him in a pleased manner, feigning indifference when Dean winked at her, even though it was just as obvious that she liked the attention. "And to drink?"

Dean regarded Emanuel for a moment, "I think he needs a double black cow."

"Coming right up."

Emanuel looked at Dean with a worried expression, "What...?"

Dean held up his hand, "Trust me, you need this. I tell Sammy all the time..."

"You tell him what?"

But Dean's happy expression had fallen and he looked troubled. "He just eats a lot of crappy health food."

The silence that followed was awkward and it seemed to take forever for the food to come. Dean had ordered himself a stack of pancakes, an order of sausage, and eggs. A cup of coffee was placed next to his plate.

Dean thanked their waitress and flashed her another award-winning smile.

Sally placed a large plate filled with a light gray sauce in front of Emanuel, sausage gravy and biscuits he later learned. A large frothy glass, with a double thick chocolate milk shake in it, was placed near his own plate.

He had not really wanted to eat, but it had tasted wonderful. Better yet was the way Dean smiled at him. He would have swallowed a live cow to see Dean gaze at him like that forever.

They had stopped at a convince store, one owned by someone named George.

Emanuel found himself thinking about this unknown person, as he waited for Dean to come back. Who had this George loved? Had they loved anyone the way Dean loved Castiel? Had they been hurt like Dean had been hurt? Or maybe it had been like the pain Emanuel felt in his heart now?

But maybe they had lived the sort of happy life that only now seemed possible in stories.

He didn't get a chance to finish his thoughts since Dean had returned. The elation he had felt seeing the hunter again was shattered when he saw the thing walking next to him.

Irrational thoughts entered his mind then. A series of actions that made no sense and yet seemed like the only course of action.

_Shove Dean to the side... or at least place myself between him and that thing. And banish it. Wipe this twisted mockery of humanity off the face of the Earth. Smite it. Rain down the heavenly light of God on it and make it regret ever coming near Dean._

_Protect Dean._

_Save Dean._

But there was no way he could. He was powerless against the demon that was following the hunter. But Emanuel knew, he couldn't stand the thought of that thing being so close to Dean, because he suddenly wanted to refer to him in a possessive sense.

_If it touched his Dean..._

Dean had insisted that this thing was a friend.

Meg.

Emanuel did not like it and initially felt horrible for not trusting Dean's judgment explicitly. But he felt some sense of vindication because he could tell that Dean didn't like her either. His body posture was all wrong. He wasn't relaxed around the demon. He was on edge, ready to attack her if he had too.

It was illogical, Emanuel realized, how much he enjoyed the idea of Dean smiting her. But he did. He wanted to ride around in Dean's car for the rest of eternity, destroying every monster in their path. Maybe Sam could come too, when he was feeling better.

What a wonderful thought that was.

_We go way back..._

What did Meg mean by that? Emanuel had stolen a glance at the hunter and saw it again. The diverted glance, the uneasy shift...

_Me and Dean, I just met you._

Dean was hiding something from him. But why? What did it have to do with this demon?

_I think we'll be good friends._

No, Emanuel thought, no we will not. He knew that firmly and with the same sense of certainty that he would lay down his life for Dean if he asked.

The car ride to the mental hospital had been awkward. But not because of Meg, as Dean had pointed out, joke or not. She was part of it, but not everything.

It was wrong because this silence should be his and Dean's alone. Meg was a trespasser in their space.

It was uncomfortable because Dean seemed to know something, but was still hiding it from him, which reflected Emanuel's own secret. The kiss they had shared. The touching he longed to experience again. And the lingering doubt in his ability to distinguish between real memories and constructed fantasies.

He had been so sure this morning, that he had remembered something real. But this silence made it hard to be so confident. There was something unspoken about it and not just the secrets they were both keeping. There was something unfinished here and Emanuel wished desperately to know what it was.

Maybe he had just convinced himself that his fantasy had been true memories, when it had all been a dream. Not for the first time recently, he felt the pain over his amnesia like a fresh cut.

It disheartened him immensely, and yet, there was something to be happy about. It was his first dream since the day in the woods. And as far as he was concerned it was the best dream he could ever hope to have.

The car had come to a slow, easy stop on the edge of the parking lot. They were one of the few cars here and most of them had parked closer to the building.

For the first time since this had started, Emanuel found himself questioning what was happening. Why did they have to hide like this? Why did they need a demon? Why were they coming in the middle of the night, because surely these were not normal visiting hours?

His answer had quickly come when he saw the demons outside of the building.

Fear had spilled over him and swallowed him up. It made Emanuel want to run to Dean's side and seek comfort in his touch. Even just to hold his hand and feel a reassuring squeeze that might hurt a little from Dean grasping it too hard.

How were they going to do this?

There was no way, Emanuel realized feeling sick with anguish at the thought that they wouldn't be able to get to Sam. He wouldn't be able to heal him, which meant that Dean would continue to suffer.

And that was when that abomination had told him.

_You're an angel_

He didn't believe her, but he did believe Dean, and the hunter's eyes confirmed the demon's statement seconds before he verbalized it.

Even as unbelievable as that had been, it had not been the news that he was an angel that had filled him with horror and disbelief.

It was when the last piece of the puzzle had toppled into place. He understood why he felt this way about Dean, since the moment he had laid eyes on him. He understood why Dean saw so much of his Castiel in him. He knew why there was something unfinished between them... something...

_Profound_

He was Castiel. Or at least, he had been Cas. Some how, he had forgotten everything. He had forgotten how he had met Dean Winchester. What had made him fall in love with the hunter and the moment the mortal had first told him that he felt the same way. If he had ever done that. Maybe it had always been these silent glances they shared that seemed to speak to their hearts in ways that words just couldn't.

The memories of their time together had been stolen from him and it completely crushed him.

He had done this to Dean. Whatever it was that had happened. He had hurt Sam... he had hurt Dean...

How?

No?

It couldn't be... it wasn't true... it couldn't. It was too much to bear.

Emanuel couldn't find his voice to answer right away, all he could do was stare at Dean. How could he hurt beautiful Dean? The man that he knew he loved, had always loved.

"I had no idea. I don't remember you."

That statement had obviously hurt Dean to hear it, as much as it had hurt Emanuel to say it. And that made him hate himself more.

He would make it better. Emanuel had to make it up to Dean some how.

There was so much sadness in Dean's eyes Emanuel realized, when the hunter tried to tell him that he had the power, _the juice_, to smite them all. Dean wanted to convince him and Emanuel wanted to believe him.

But he didn't remember how.

_I'll try..._

And he would. Without any sense of what he should do when he got there. He would try, for Dean...


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Emanuel looked over his shoulder, taking one last look at Dean. He wanted so much for what they had said about him to be true. If only...

As he walked down the grassy hill he tried to enjoy every fleeting second, because deep down inside of him, he knew these were his last moments. The air was cool and sticky from the rain, making his skin clammy. He felt oddly peaceful and even a little hopeful, despite the lingering doubt. What would happen to him down there? What would happen because of these actions?

His heart ached at the thought that no matter what happened, he was going to lose. It was just a matter of what other worldly being would end his short time here on Earth.

But he realized as his shoes hit the freshly laid asphalt, that he wanted to lose. Not that he wanted to die with so much being left undone, but because he knew it was the right thing to do.

_Dear Lord_, he thought as he crossed the parking lot. _Please, if you can do one thing for me. Please, bring Castiel back_. He closed his eyes then and trembled, shed a few tears, and tried his best to accept his destiny.

_Please, I beg you. I don't care where I go. I don't care what happens to me. Just please, let me be an angel again. Give Cas this body back so he can continue your work. And more importantly, because Dean needs him._

Emanuel reached the first demon and placed his hand on its head. It was astonishing, watching the demon being banished. But more powerful was the shock wave that washed over him after it. Because it cracked the surface and he saw...

That first night in Pontiac.

He knew, like he was watching a home movie that Castiel had not known it, but he had loved Dean even then. Even when Dean had plunged a knife into his chest. Because he had pulled this soul out of hell and had painstakingly pieced it back together. He had made this man whole, his own work of art.

The next demon was sent back to hell and the cracks grew. Pieces of Emanuel fell away and it was glorious. Because he watched as Castiel threw away the rule book. How frightening it must have been, Emanuel ponder, to give up everything. Not just family and faith, but God and all of Heaven for this one imperfect human. He had cut himself and shed the first drops of blood for the Winchesters. And it wouldn't be the last time.

Even when he remembered how hurt Dean had been... because of Sam's wall being broken, about the betrayal with Crowley... all of it was breathlessly divine. The pain and suffering was worth it because Castiel was coming back.

These flashes were slowly forming a connection to him, Emanuel realized. They were not just disjointed imagines or elaborate fantasies, but his own memories. And Emanuel couldn't ask for anything more.

Because Emnuel knew that Castiel was reclaiming this form and would be at Dean's side once more.

The angel inside of him was waking up, his grace burning brightly in his chest, filling him with white-hot heat.

And he realized that they had loved one another. Maybe not as intimately as Emanuel had tried to be with Dean. But there was something there between this human and his angel. And he understood why Dean could never be with him. Because he had given his heart to someone else. And that Cas too had come to realize his love for the mortal. And their bond was not something that could be broken.

The last demon tried to get away, but it was pointless. Emanuel was barely hanging on at this point. Castiel was almost in complete control of the body they were sharing for this brief point in time.

_I love you Dean_. Emanuel thought as the last bits of him drifted from this world. _Please find happiness... please... Castiel... please Dean... find a way to love each other again_.

And just like that, Emanuel wasn't truly Emanuel anymore, because he was Castiel again. But as Dean and Meg walked over to where he was standing, he realized something was different. He tried to say that it was the guilt over Crowley and everything that had happened with Purgatory.

That's what he told Dean...

Dean

Beautiful, imperfect, Dean Winchester.

The way the mortal said his name, with a touch uncertainty and hope... the effect it had on him was what was different.

He lashed out at Dean because he felt conflicted. He had cared for Dean for a while now. He had felt their closeness, he wasn't completely blind after all. But there was this sudden and unmistakable need inside of him.

It was too much, millenniums of knowledge zapping back into his brain, all while feeling the familiar weight of his love for Dean on his chest. Castiel, still feeling very much like the mortal Emanuel, had fled the parking lot.

And of course, Goddamn Dean had followed him. He should have know better, he should have expected it. At least the abomination had stayed behind. He would thank Dean for that later.

Every problem on Dean's plate: the Leviathan, Sam's broken head, it was all his fault.

"If you remember..." Dean's voice broke into his thoughts, gruff and determined, making Castiel's skin tingle. "You know you did the best you could."

Castiel had turned on Dean then, demanded that the hunter not defend him, and reminded him of what he had done in his foolish, blind, pride.

And Dean had simply said: "So what?"

Just like that, Dean was offering the answer to his problem. It was silent, just between the lines, the hidden text that was their true way of communicating together. He wasn't just asking Cas to fix what he had done, he was offering to help.

And then Dean had returned his coat to him.

Like a light breeze, Castiel thought he heard Emanuel's voice whispering in his ear, as he stared at the returned overcoat.

It baffled him that Dean had returned it, because of what that meant. What that spoke about the way Dean really felt about him. He was not forgiven, Castiel wouldn't have let him even if he had tried too. He had to pay for what he had done, the suffering he had caused.

But he felt that Emanuel had the answer. He had learned it while Castiel had slept deep inside of him, waiting to be awoken. It was an answer that Castiel always knew but never really acknowledged.

He heard Dean shifting nervously in front of him, drawing his thoughts from the bundle of fabric in his hands.

Again, he heard Emanuel's voice faintly in his head, and found himself turning an intense gaze to Dean.

His feet were moving closer to Dean before he even realized he was doing it. His hands loosened enough to drop the coat.

Dean's expression had been priceless then, the horror on his face when Castiel had dropped the gift, as if he was watching a priceless artifact being manhandled.

But Cas didn't care.

He stepped on the coat, his hands reaching out for what he wanted right now.

His form slammed hard into the mortal's, causing Dean to fall backwards and into the side of the Impala. But his hands were holding Dean, pressing the hunter close as their mouths met.

There wasn't any hesitation this time.

He felt the desire that Emanuel had felt, the feeling the mortal had helped him place in words. It was heady and delicious, and perfect because Dean easily returned the gesture.

Tears were running down Dean's cheeks again, but there was joy in his eyes when Castiel looked at him.

Firmly, Castiel brushed Dean's tears from his cheeks and kissed each wet eye. They touched each other's faces, pressing them close together in the most intimate gesture they would allow themselves. Any more would be too much and neither were certain they could handle it.

_I'll never take you for granted again._

_I'll never leave you behind._

_I'll do whatever I can to protect you.  
_

_And as soon as I can, I will love you the way we should have years ago._

Castiel saw those thoughts and more in Dean's eyes, knowing that the sentiment was reflected in his own gaze.

He realized, with a bitter smile, that he wanted nothing more than to shove Dean into the backseat of the Impala and have his way with him. If Sam wasn't in such desperate need of his help, he might have.

He stroked Dean's cheek slowly, reluctant to leave his side.

"When Sam is better..."

Euphoria washed over Castiel then, when he saw the way Dean was looking at him. It was the way Emanuel had wished the hunter would look at him. And Castiel realized, he wanted very much to cry with Dean then, because he still didn't feel like he deserved it. But it was the best thing he had ever experienced in his long life.

Knowing that Dean was going to let him in again, even if the process was slower than before. Even if he had to struggle through the trust and forgiveness, making amends for what he had done. Dean still loved him...

And he would have gone into the Impala with him if he had asked.

They exchanged another kiss, loving and deep, before going back to Meg. They entered the building together, pausing as Meg walked through the front door to join their hands, grasping them securely before they followed the demon.

"I should have never broken your wall Sam. I'm here to make it right."

((Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed my story! I will be working on more!))


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